Love That Hurts the Deepest
by InfinityStar
Summary: Just for one night he would love her without guilt, and he paid the price for his mistake. Another missing scene from Choices.
1. Dance of Two Lovers

**A/N: Okay...this one is for raz0r.girl, who wanted to see the first night Bobby remembered. What can of worms have I opened now:-) Anyway, this is another _Choices_ missing scene. Chapter one takes place at the end of _Choices'_ chapter 14: _Frustration_. Chapter two takes place in the middle of chapter 15: _Right and Wrong_. After I finished chapter one, I realized I had to go on and take it through the next part, with Ricky and his friends. So I began work on chapter two. **

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Love that we cannot have is the one that lasts the longest, hurts the deepest and feels the strongest.  
----author unknown

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_Logan and Barek had gone, and Eames was sitting in the easy chair in Goren's living room. He came out of the kitchen with two coffee cups, handing one to her. "You staying the night?"_

_"If it's ok with you."_

_"Sure. You can have the bed."_

_She set her cup on the coffee table and moved to sit beside him on the couch. "Bobby, what's going on?"_

_He was quiet, looking into his coffee, searching for just what to say. "What the hell are we going to do, Eames?"_

_"About what?"_

_"About you. You know, I honestly never meant to cause you any trouble."_

_"When do you ever cause me trouble? You aggravate me sometimes…"_

_"Not that kind of trouble. The kind of trouble you deal with every day at home."_

_"Is that what's been bothering you?"_

_"It always bothers me. I never meant…"_

_"You don't. Look, the problem isn't you; it's him. I thought he understood how it was when we got married. I was wrong…and that's my fault. You are probably the only faultless one in this triangle."_

_"I never meant for there to_ be _a triangle."_

_"But there is, whether you want it or not. I really don't want to talk about this right now."_

_"We have to talk about it. We've been trying to ignore it for three years, and I don't know about you, but I…" He broke off, frustrated and angry._

_"Just let me deal with it, ok? I've been dealing with his insecurity since we left for Bermuda…"_

_He frowned darkly. "On your honeymoon?"_

_She nodded. He had no idea it had started way back then. She really had been dealing with this for her entire marriage. "I'm sorry," he said softly._

_She looked at him. From everyone else, she got 'why do you stay?' From him, she got an apology. "Never apologize to me because my husband's an ass, Goren. This isn't your problem…"_

_"Not my problem?" He got up, agitated. His frustration and anger boiled over. "How the hell can you say that? I see you every morning and I know you didn't sleep well the night before. Your little girl spends more time with your dad than she does with you. I watch this eating at you, and damn it, Eames, it kills me. And there's not a damn thing I can do to fix it. Not one damn thing."_

_She got off the couch and walked to him, placing her hands on his chest and pushing him roughly into the wall. Pulling his head toward her, she kissed him hard. He turned her so that she was against the wall and stepped back, out of breath and confused. "I can't…"_

_"The hell you can't."_

_"This isn't going to fix anything."_

_"Speak for yourself, Goren. I need you, damn it."_

_He leaned toward her so he could look her directly in the eye. "You're married, Eames. It's not my place to…"_

_She kissed him again, softly this time. "Let me decide what your place is in my life." She caressed his hair, letting her lips tease his. "If there is a chance for any happiness in my life, it's not going to be in my marriage. It's going to be right here."_

_As much as he had fought over the past three years to keep from stepping into this exact situation, he now found no way out of it. Right now her intensity rivaled his at its peak, and there was no chance for him to step away. She wasn't going to let him. And truth be told, he simply did not want to._

Her lips continued to tease his. He closed his eyes, but did not pull away. What the _hell_ was he doing? He wasn't the one against the wall; he had no excuse for staying where he was. He really should pull away, retreat...

Her hands slowly unbuttoned his shirt and still, he didn't withdraw. He let her have her way as his buttons slid free under her fingers and her lips continued to caress his. When her hands slid into his shirt, he groaned, deepening the kiss and pulling her closer. _She's_ _**married**, you idiot,_ his conscience tried to tell him. _Step away._

But his heart, the seat of his passion and raging emotions, forced him closer, coaxed him to slip his tongue past her lips and move his hands to slide under her shirt. By the time they got to the bedroom door, both of their shirts were on the hall floor. His mind battled his heart for control of his body. It was a fierce battle, but there was a clear winner. He'd deal with the loser in the morning.

Her bra dropped onto the floor just before they crossed into the bedroom. His fingers undid her jeans with practiced speed as his belt and the button and zipper of his own jeans slid open beneath her hands. By the time he lowered her onto the bed, the rest of their clothes lay in a heap on the floor.

She looked up into his smoldering eyes as her fingers traced their way across his shoulders, then down along his sides and back up. He trembled.

Over the past few years, sex had become almost clinical to him; he never put his heart or soul into the act. He made certain his partner was well-satisfied, but sought only physical release for himself. But this...this was very different. Right about now was the point where his emotions shut down but no such thing was happening with her. Instead they went the _other_ way, rising within him to the point of boiling. Here there was real passion fueled to capacity by the power of love.

Her voice sounded in his mind as he kissed her. _Let me decide what your place is in my life..._ So far, it was a _very_ good place...

_You won't think so in the morning_, his rational mind told him, only to be shot down by his emotions which were now running on overload.

_Screw tomorrow. I don't care about tomorrow, or next month, or next year. I care about now...and now feels pretty damn good!_

It wasn't often he was able to turn off his mind, but when she began using her tongue to play with his ear and running her hands lightly down his back to his waist, where they lingered, taunting and teasing, he didn't register another word his conscience uttered. His only concern was this woman beneath him...this woman he dearly loved and desperately wanted.

She gasped into his ear when he slid inside and he trembled at the sound. She arched her back up, thrusting her hips toward him, then easing off, continuing to tease and driving him nuts. He was the one who should be in charge, setting the pace. In this dance of two lovers, he expected to lead. But, as in everything, she took him by surprise as she thrust her hips upward again. This time he met her halfway and another tremble coursed through his body. She raked her nails up his sides and he caught his breath. _Oh, God_...he didn't think it possible but his emotions kicked up another notch. He was so not used to this. Always, he was the one who led this particular dance, set the pace, adjusted for depth and pressure...but she wasn't waiting for that. Always, he was in control of the situation _and_ himself. Now he'd lost touch with both. He dipped his head to kiss her; she took his breath away.

He adjusted his pace to match hers, stroke for stroke, until they both reached the edge and, with one final hard thrust against him, she drove them both over. He pressed into her with a shudder and a moan, which she matched. His arms gave out and he shifted so as not to land on top of her. Kissing her temple, he whispered,"Forgive me, but I love you."

She laughed huskily, not in any mood to even approach annoyance. "Don't make it sound like an apology. You're allowed to love me, Bobby. I love you, too."

How could the three sweetest words in the language--_I love you_--possibly bring so much pain? It was reassuring that she did reciprocate his love, but that just made it hurt worse to realize it could not be like this all the time. It couldn't be like this ever. But he pushed his thoughts away and once again shut out the rational part of his brain. _The hell with it!_ Tonight, just for _one_ damn night, he was going to love her without guilt. He would deal with it tomorrow, when it came back to hit him ferociously, but for tonight, and only tonight, she was _his_. He almost wished he was drunk, so he could blame his failure to control his damn self on alcohol. But he wasn't. He was stone cold sober and had consciously made this decision to let her step away from her marriage and into his arms, just for a few hours...and then never again.

He was content to hold her for awhile, then he pulled her body against his. Now it was _his_ turn to lead. He began with a gentle caress, feather-light, starting at her shoulders and flitting its way down to her thighs and back. Her body trembled and she laughed. He had never heard a laugh like that from her before, and it set his insides on fire. He continued his light caress, igniting the fire in her as well, even though he avoided the most sensitive areas of her body. Apparently, he made his point as she arched toward him, pressing her body, and particularly her hips, hard against him. With a hungry kiss, he let one hand alight on her breasts--first one, then the other--and she gasped and groaned all in one sound. He could feel his emotions building to match the tension in his body. But he still held back, his body shaking with the effort. She didn't seem to know what to do with her hands...she seemed to forget how to breathe, how to talk...all she could manage was a deep moan and agasp when his other hand found its mark. Her hands seemed to be everywhere, uncertain of exactly where they needed to be or what they needed to be doing.

Three times he teased her to the edge, coming damn close himself the last time. He backed way off...and she whispered a gutteral threat into his ear that made him laugh softly. Okay, then...time to take it home, and he did, masterfully, for both of them.

Physically and emotionally spent and deeply satisfied, he barely managed to whisper "I love you" before he drifted off to sleep. His brain was still in shut down mode. Not in his wildest imagination or his most intense dreams had he ever thought _anything_ could feel that good. He had been dreaming about this for years but his dreams never even came close to reality. There was no denying now, for either of them, the love--and the despair--that was theirs to share. At some level they both knew this could not happen again as long as she remained married to another. She knew he wouldn't let it; he knew that he couldn't let it. He had lost his heart to her long ago. Now she owned his soul as well. And he couldn't do a damn thing about it.


	2. Paying the Price

The sun was barely up when she kissed him, dressed and left him sleeping deeply. She locked the door behind her, went to her car and drove to her dad's house. She had been right. A great lover when he was drunk, sober he was nothing short of amazing. She still trembled at the memory of what he had done to her body, and she wanted more. Knowing she couldn't have it sent a wave of regret through her stronger than any she had ever known. Now she knew beyond any shadow of doubt, that she wanted Bobby in her life and Maggie's, as close as he would let them get, and she never wanted to let him go.

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He rolled over and stretched. He felt better rested than he had in a very long time. He let his mind wander back to the night before, still not opening himself to the raw wounds his conscience was going to rub salt in. He wanted to enjoy what had happened for just a little while longer. He knew instinctively that she was gone, but he understood. She was afraid to let him see what else he was missing, waking with her in his arms, which would only compound his sense of loss and deep regret. Last night should never have happened, and the guilt and regret for that were beginning to form in his mind. He knew he would not be able to keep them at bay much longer.

He leaned over when the phone rang and grabbed it from its cradle. "Goren."

"Hey, man," Logan's voice came over the line. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Not much."

"Eames there?"

"No, she left this morning."

"Everything okay?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" _Don't ask me that question in a few hours_, he thought almost bitterly.

"You wanna go shoot some hoops?"

_Get out and keep busy, delay the inevitable_... He looked at the time: 11:36. "Yeah, sure. Gimme an hour to shower and get something to eat."

"How 'bout I show up around two?"

"Sounds good."

"See ya then."

He hung up the phone and stayed where he was for a few more minutes. He wondered if it could possibly help him in any way to confide in Logan. Would he understand? He'd never talked about this with anyone before, at least not that he remembered. Hell, he could have told Mike anything when he was drunk, and Mike would never have said a word about it. And he had no idea what he'd said the night she got married. _Sigh_. Mike was a damn good friend. Maybe it really _would_ help, talking about it sober and fully aware of what he was saying and what he was feeling. It sure couldn't hurt...and anything that helped with this anguish he knew was coming...well...With a heavy sigh, he got up and went into the bathroom.

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He'd just finished eating when someone knocked at the door. Glancing at the clock, which said 12:47, he mused that Logan was early. That was odd. Mike was never early. He went to the door and opened it.

There were four men in the hallway. One of them was Ricky Waters. His sixth sense began screaming at him, but he was so surprised to see Ricky, he didn't respond to it. Waters shoved him backwards into the apartment, following after him with his friends behind him. "You son of a bitch, where is she?"

"What?" Goren replied, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't act stupid. Where's my wife?"

"I have no idea."

"I had you two followed last night, Goren. I know you came back here when you were done at the sporting complex. I also know that your two pals left and my wife didn't."

_Shit_. Eames was going to flip out over that. "That doesn't mean anything."

"The hell it doesn't."

"Look, Eames has stayed here plenty of times. It doesn't mean anything happened." That was the truth. What had happened the night before was the one and only time...and it wouldn't happen again. He couldn't let it, as difficult as that was going to be, knowing now what he was missing. "I've told you before, Waters, I am not sleeping with your wife." Also the truth...he let things get the better of him once. That did not amount to an affair.

"Tell me you don't love her."

He couldn't do that. He couldn't lie like that, to himself or anyone else. Besides, Waters knew that he loved Eames. "That has nothing to do with anything. As long as she's married, she's off limits to me. And she's my partner. I'm not about to risk screwing that up."

"You're full of shit, Goren."

Goren wasn't sure what he expected, but the solid right to his jaw was not it. He missed the coffee table, hit the arm of the couch and spun as he hit the floor, but he came right back up and did not hesitate to connect his fist to Waters' face. He got in more than a few powerful blows before Waters' friends jumped him. He fought them off several times before they finally managed to overpower him and held him fast.

Waters drove his fist into Goren's gut. "You just can't leave well enough alone."

Another blow to his upper abdomen. "You gotta play with fire."

A right hook opened a laceration under his left eye. "She's not yours, you bastard, and she never will be."

Another punch to the face. "She married _me_."

Goren continued to struggle against the men who held him but he wasn't able to break free. Waters did not ease up and his buddies did not loosen their hold on the big cop. With each hit, Waters felt his fury build, and he continued, even after Goren stopped struggling, supported almost entirely by the three men who held him. Barely in control of himself, Waters pulled his gun from its holster and rested the muzzle against Goren's head. His friends were visibly shaken. The one who held Goren's left arm said, "You don't want to do that, Rick."

"Why the hell not? He's been nothing but a thorn in my side since I started seeing Alex."

"Come on, man, he's one of us. Like him or not, the son of a bitch is a _cop_. Picking fights with him is one thing. Beating the shit out of him is approaching the line. But killing him, in cold blood...no way."

"Not good enough," he growled.

The man who held Goren's right side hid his panic and said, "Then think about Alex, Ricky."

Waters hesitated. He was right. She wasn't going to like that he had done this, but she would hate him forever if he killed the guy. After all, whether he liked it or not, his wife did love her partner. He pulled the gun away and thumbed the safety back on. Flipping it over in his hand, he brought the butt of the gun down on Goren's head, ignoring the fact that the man was already mostly unconscious. "Let's go, guys."

They let him drop onto the floor and left the apartment, pulling the door closed behind them.

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Logan knocked on the door for the second time, glancing at his watch. He was right on time for a change; it was a few minutes before two. Goren was probably in the shower now. Who could ever predict what would distract the guy...probably something on the History Channel or Discovery...wouldn't be the first time...

He turned the knob. Yep, he'd left the door open for him. Stepping into the apartment, he called out, "Hey, Bobby--I'm here."

Silence. Then he saw the unconscious form of his friend on the floor between the couch and the easy chair. "Oh, shit..."

He pulled out his phone and was done dialing as he dropped to his knees beside Goren, feeling for a pulse. When the 911 operator answered, he gave his name, badge number and the address of the apartment. "I've got an officer down. Send a bus immediately!"

He was relieved to find a strong pulse, but his breathing was a little ragged, and the pool of blood that had soaked into the carpet unsettled him. But it was the fact that he was totally unresponsive that troubled him most of all. He wasn't sure what he should do, but he got up and hurried to the bathroom, grabbing a facecloth and running it under warm water. Returning to the living room, he gently cleaned the blood from Goren's face, examining the lacerations and developing bruises. "You're gonna be pretty, pal. What the hell happened to you?"

Nothing seemed out of place...he wondered if it was a robbery gone bad..or something worse.

When the paramedics arrived, Logan looked up from where he was kneeling and motioned them in, moving to kneel by Goren's head. He remained there and watched as they worked on him, then he helped them get him onto the stretcher. "Where are you taking him?'

"St. Vincent's."

"I'll meet you there. I need to call his partner and our captain."

"Okay. We'll let the ER staff know you're on your way."

Alex was upset, as he knew she would be, and Deakins blew a gasket. Oh, this was _so_ not good, he reflected as he negotiated the traffic on his way to the hospital. He would have to manage a worried Alex and an angry Deakins. Goren was going to owe him for this one.

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After showing his badge at the desk, a nurse came out and led him to the cubicle where they were working on Goren. One of the nurses came out to meet him and asked, "What happened?"

"I don't know. He was home alone. I got there at two because we had plans and I found him on the floor. I had talked to him around 11:30."

"Does he have any family?"

"His partner has power of attorney to make medical decisions for him, and she's on her way." Eames had been furious when Goren had suggested giving that power of attorney to him after she got married, and he had backed off right away and let her keep it. Neither of them saw it as a big deal, but apparently she did, so he let well enough alone. "How is he doing?"

"We'll know more after he wakes up. Right now we need to get some x-rays."

As the medical staff cleared from the cubicle to tend to other patients while they waited for the x-rays, Logan moved in to sit by his bed and wait. He felt a great deal of relief when he heard Goren groan softly. He started to move. Logan recognized the agitation that began building as he slowly returned to consciousness. When he rested his hand on Goren's arm, he was prepared and ducked the punch that was swung at his head. "Hey, man," he said quietly. "It's me. Calm down."

"Mike?"

"Yeah. Who did this to you, Bobby?"

"It was...Waters...and three of his...pals."

"You sure?"

He nodded, wincing at the pain that flared in response to the movement of his head. God, he felt sick. "They...were cops. I-I've seen them...with him..."

Logan hated seeing him in so much pain. Goren shifted on the bed, searching for a position that didn't hurt quite so much, but he couldn't find one. Logan lightly touched his shoulder. "Take it easy. I'll go get a doctor. Hang on."

One of the doctors came right away, relieved that he was awake. After carefully assessing his mental state and determining his head injury wasn't severe, he ordered medication for the pain and a nurse came to inject it into his IV. By the time the x-ray tech arrived twenty minutes later, Goren was drifting in and out under the effects of the painkiller. Logan hadn't gotten another coherent word out of him.

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**A/N: This scene continues in Chapter 15 of _Choices_...**


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